


Keepers of the Back Beat

by fortymaliks



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortymaliks/pseuds/fortymaliks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As a joke, Brendon puts pictures of Zac up all over Spencer's apartment. Pages he's ripped out of Bop magazine, which he tapes to the wall with the kind of tape that rips the paint off the walls with it.</p><p>As a funnier, more hilarious joke, Spencer punches Brendon in the face."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keepers of the Back Beat

**Author's Note:**

> I am well aware of how weird this is. I posted it to lj quite a while ago, just moving it here.

Once upon a time, Spencer was in love with Jon Walker. He supposes that the love hasn't actually gone anywhere, but the thing is, Jon has. The where is not important, but the fact that he's gone _is_.

Spencer's not talking about it, really, he's okay now. At first, he'd tried to write songs about how he felt, but the thing is, he's not Ryan, and he can't just write secrets and truths out on paper where someone might find them and _know_. So instead, he'd ended up with pages and pages about how it feels to have your heart ripped in two, when he didn't know how that felt at all. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to have a heart, really. Because Jon had left and taken it with him.

***

A few years passed, and things get slowly better, because time is _awesome_ for things like that.

***

They're playing at some sort of event, the launch party of some sort of video game that Brendon worships. They'd agreed so that Brendon could get an advance copy of the game, and he'd locked himself in his house with it for days, only looking up when Spencer shoved paper mugs of coffee into his hands. Ryan Ross wasn't in their world anymore, so the "no coffee for Brendon" rule had been abandoned in a reckless fit of "purge the band of everything Ryan" that Spencer had gone through in the first few months. Spencer had regretted the decision ever since he'd made it, but there was no going back now.

Brendon had eventually showered and left his house, one of the reason's being that they had to actually play the event.

"Is he gonna make it?" Dallon asks, eyes hurriedly trying to track Brendon as he paces the room.

"Eh," Spencer says, half watching Brendon, and half keeping an eye on the other stars who start trailing in. "He just needs more coffee."

Spencer sees Andrew Garfield. He checks the stars off his list one by one. Blake Lively, Chris Pine, Jason Mraz. Tom Hardy, Seth Green, Zac Efron.

Dallon nudges Spencer in the shoulder, knocking him out of his monotony.

"Soundcheck." He tells him, one simple word before he begins the much more difficult task of reigning Brendon in.

"Right," Spencer says, giving his head a shake.

*****

Brendon loves after-parties, and Spencer loves having a lead singer who is in one piece, so Spencer goes to the after party with him. It's an hour in, and Brendon's got the attention of the whole room, his hand wrapped tight around the neck of a guitar, singing _Scarlett Begonias_ along with the half of the crowd that Spencer instantly likes better.

Spencer is jealous of the way Brendon's awkwardness melts away in front of a crowd, how his inherent geekiness ceases to exist. Ryan hadn't ever been able to pull that off, not like Brendon could, standing in front of thousands of eyes and being able to not only be comfortable there, but thrive. Brendon thrives with attention.

"I feel like I should know this song," says a voice from Spencer's left, and he glances in it's direction to find Zac Efron standing next to him with a beer and a smile.

"It's Sublime," Spencer says, probably accidentally smirking, because Zac laughs suddenly, self-deprecating and really, really attractive.

"Yeah, it's times like these that I actually wish I hadn't missed that college education. I'm pretty sure that's when you learn all the important things, like the lyrics to Sublime."

"Pretty much," Spencer finds himself turning to face Zac more readily, opening up under Zac's friendly gaze. "Sublime, Ben Folds, Dispatch..."

"Dispatch? Uh oh," Zac laughs, "I don't even know that one. I'm in trouble."

Spencer knows way too much about Zac Efron, little sisters will do that to someone. And it was definitely possible that Brendon had made him see _Charlie St. Cloud_ twice in theaters. Despite these things, Spencer finds himself liking the guy.

***

Once upon a time, in this part of the story, Spencer meets a nice guy named Zac. A nice, smart, funny guy who just happens to have a fantastic body and a familiar name.

***

It's raining one night, the quick, fast downpour that LA is so good at. You can't see it coming, and it's gone before you have time to get out of it. Spencer gets a text from Zac, "I'm coming over."

He walks in, and Spencer smiles nervously, glad to see him. He's trying to push down the panic that's welling in his chest, because Zac is in his apartment, and he hadn't even picked his clothes off the floor. He wonders if he's supposed to care, Zac's probably never had to pick up after himself, but he's _famous_ , really famous, not the type like Panic is, where if you know them, you really know them, and if you don't, you really fucking don't.

"We could play Modern Warfare," Zac Efron is saying to him, and what?

"We could." Spencer says, mostly because he doesn't know what is even going on, so repeating words that Zac is saying to him seems like the safest bet.

"Yeah, we could." Zac pulls his hoodie over his head, shaking droplets of water onto Spencer's floor. "Or, you could let me fuck you, instead."

***

Spencer's never met anyone as comfortable in his own skin as Zac is in his. He used to believe that Brendon was one of these people, but now that he knows Zac, he realizes that Brendon's constant love of being naked is more attention-oriented and thrill-seeking than a comfort thing.

***

As a joke, Brendon puts pictures of Zac up all over Spencer's apartment. Pages he's ripped out of Bop magazine, which he tapes to the wall with the kind of tape that rips the paint off the walls with it.

As a funnier, more hilarious joke, Spencer punches Brendon in the face.

***

And then, once upon another time, Jon comes back. Not back to the band, but back to Spencer. Or, to Spencer's house, at least, in the mid-afternoon, knocking on his door because he hates doorbells (they scare Clover). Spencer pulls it open and blinks at Jon, standing there sheepishly soaked in sunlight.

"Hi, Spencer." Jon says, tongue dragging on all the right syllables, and Spencer can't help it, his intake is sudden and it's kind of hard to breath.

"Hey Jon," Spencer says, going for cautious, but he's not fooling anybody, let alone the person who knows him better than anybody this side of Ryan Ross. Especially because he's already flung his front door wide open.

***

"I'm pretty sure I only left you alone for like, a minute. For one minute, I turn my back, and you're dating Disney stars."

"He's not with Disney anymore." Spencer folds his arms across his chest, protectively. Intimidatingly, actually. Yeah. He's got nothing to be ashamed of.

"Uh huh," Jon deadpans, setting his bag down by the front door. "I missed you, you asshole."

***

Zac says hi and shakes Jon's hand on his way in, which is really impressive. At least Spencer thinks so. He smiles, and it's not even his fake "I don't really want to be here" smile; it's genuine and friendly, and when Jon grasps his hand, his lazy smile is the same. Spencer thinks he might have pulled something in his neck, whipping it back and forth between the two of them, watching them smile and _touch each other_. He's not really sure how they can even exist in the same space.

Spencer manages to stand there helplessly as Zac invites Jon out to dinner with them and Jon accepts. He doesn't even let his mouth hang open. He just watches, not even breathing, until Zac nudges into his shoulder.

"I'm going to shower," he says, and Spencer scans the words for any sign of a secret message, something like, "holy fuck, I'm pissed at you right now" or maybe, "come join me there, because boy do we have things to talk about". No, the only message that can be read in Zac's words is "I need to clean myself", so Spencer watches him go.

After a few moments, Jon clears his throat, and a slight glance tells Spencer that Jon's been staring at him.

"So that's how it is, I guess?" Jon's drawl is lazy, but there's a hint of _something_ , jealousy maybe, but that's too predictable. Mostly it sounds tired, and Spencer's not really sure what Jon has to be tired about. Spencer's the one who's so fucking tired, he could probably sleep for days.

"Yeah." Spencer says, the word falling flat as the sound of running water drifts to them from the bathroom. Truthfully, Spencer has no idea how it is.

***

He loves Jon, he really, really does, or did, or something, but something else he really loves are Zac's abs. His abs, and also, his hair, which is the perfect length for pulling. Spencer takes full advantage of this fact whenever Zac tries to assert his "I've dated more guys and look amazing with my shirt off and am therefore the man in this relationship" point of view. There is logic somewhere that says that hair pulling may accomplish the exact opposite of what Spencer wants it to, but that logic can shut-the-hell-up, thanks.

Spencer let's Zac's lips drag across his own as he runs a hand up into the nape of Zac's hair and _pulls_. Zac compensates by biting down harder on Spencer's bottom lip, and really, there's nothing Spencer can do to defend against something like that.

***

"Do what you want, Spencer." Zac's eyes are dull as he glances away quickly, rubbing his palms on his jeans awkwardly. Zac's staring at the television and Spencer's staring at Zac, who is suddenly devoid of his easygoing slouch.

They sit this way through another episode of something, background noise to Spencer's slow, quiet demise. They sit until a commercial comes up and Zac stands.

"I'm gonna take off, I think."

"It's still early..." Spencer offers, unsure why, because yeah, it'll be a lot easier to think once Zac's out of range. Still, he wants him around, and that's something, isn't it?

Zac smiles sadly. "Yeah, I'm kind of tired, though. And you've got... some thinking to do. So. Do it."

When he leaves, the house seems a lot emptier, and without Zac to stare at, Spencer supposes he really is going to have to think this all through.

***

Spencer is drunk. He thinks that maybe he's only been this drunk twice in his life, and never in the last few years, but he remembers how easy it is to make decisions when you're drunk and forgets entirely that you usually make the wrong ones. He's had a quart of whiskey under the cupboard for quite a while, a gift from Brendon when he first moved into his apartment, and he's more than three quarters through it already, which he's pretty proud of. He is a very manly man who drinks whiskey and things, despite all of his former best friends' efforts involving rose vests and make up and things.

His phone is out, he's dialed and it's ringing, even before he gets the chance to remember who he's called and what he was going to say, but some words come to him as soon as he hears a very confused, sleep-drenched Ryan Ross mumble a 'hello' on the other end.

"You suck, you suck and I fucking hate you."

"Hello to you, too." Ryan's words are still a little cautious, curious, but Spencer can hear affection in them. And that's just, no.

"Why do you even bother talking to me, why don't you just go and like. Do things while wearing ugly, ugly shoes."

"Spencer."

"Oh, don't you 'Spencer' me, all best-friendy like we've even talked in the last million years. I don't need you to talk to me for me to be perfectly fine, Ryan Ross, which is what I am right now..."

"Right."

"... so I don't even need you, or your dumb songs about pills and things, because I am so fucking drunk and I have other people, like, like, Brendon. And he's comfortable and can play guitar almost as good as you can and I also don't need your shitty bass players because Dallon is awesome."

"So I've heard."

"I don't need you to be my best friend anymore. I don't need you, because I have other people. And it's okay that I don't have anyone to stop me from falling apart and that I have to keep everyone else from falling apart, because I can bring Brendon coffee and I don't ever fall apart. Not ever, I don't ever."

"Spencer, I..."

"I am just fucking _fine_. I do not miss you. And that's why I'm calling you, to tell you that I've got everything worked out just fine and I do not miss you and I most definitely do not miss you. And so, yeah. Goodbye."

Spencer's not sure how he gets to the couch, but he's glad he does, because the couch is soft and he's fucking mad and soft things are awesome when you're mad.

***

There's a ringing in Spencer's ears when he comes to. He peels his face off of the leather couch, where he apparently landed last night.

It turns out the ringing wasn't just in his ears.

He stumbles across the floor, into the hallway and grabs the front door. First, he presses his palms to the wood, and then he grips the handle and pulls it open, blinking into the light.

"Fuck you." Ryan says, pushing past Spencer and stepping into the apartment. "Fuck you. Now, let's get you back to bed."

Spencer's head really fucking hurts, and he has things to say, things like "no, fuck _you_ ", and "I wasn't ever in bed in the first place", and "I fucking missed you", but Ryan's tugging gently on his arm, and Spencer needs somebody to lean on. So even though he never thought that person would be Ryan Ross again, he can't say that he's too upset about it.

***

If Spencer thought that he was confused the first time he woke up that day, he was wrong. Because the disoriented feeling he'd had waking up hungover on his couch had nothing on waking up in his bed with Ryan's arm strewn over his chest, weighing him down, all long limbs. He smelled like Ryan, and it had been familiar once.

He could also smell pancakes, which didn't make sense. Well, it did, if he considered that Ryan probably would turn the stove on to make pancakes and then leave it to come back to bed, burning the breakfast and the house down in the process.

"Pancakes." Spencer mutters, turning over suddenly, "Ryan, you..."

"Oh, shut up, Brendon's down there." Ryan says, pulling his arms tentatively away from Spencer, as if he'd been caught out and didn't really know if he should be doing it.

Spencer stares at Ryan, breathes deeply for a few moments, all thoughts of Jon and Zac vanishing from his head as he takes a moment to be really fucking glad to have his best friend back.

"That was quite the phone call, Bridget Jones." Ryan's drawl is lazy, but Spencer doesn't need to notice the concern in his eyes to know that it's there. Ryan's here, after all.

It all comes flooding back to him, and Spencer winces. "Fuck my life."

Ryan's smile is small, tight. "Sounds like your life is fucked enough already, Spence."

"Just tell me what to do. You used to be so fucking good at it."

Ryan's laugh comes instantly, short and bitter like most of Ryan's laughs. "Yeah, and it's worked out so well for me."

***

At the end of most stories, there's a girl and there's a boy, and they end up together and happy. Or sometimes, there's a boy and a boy, or a girl and a girl, but it doesn't matter, the point is, there's two of them, and there's a sunset. There's an all-consuming feeling that everything is as it should be.

Spencer knows, though, that real life isn't like that. He's not living in one of Zac Efron's Disney films. And he's not living in one of Jon's songs, where Jon's the sun and he's the moon, or his beard or his cat, or what the fuck ever. He's living in his own life, and he's sick of trying to fit into somebody else's.

So at the end of this story, there's Spencer. And he'll do whatever the fuck he wants, thank you very much. He hasn't figured out what that is yet, but he will.


End file.
